


Not in it to forget

by hugemind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Guilt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-22
Updated: 2007-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugemind/pseuds/hugemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tries to forget an incident that happened years ago but fails miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in it to forget

**Author's Note:**

> Not heavy on the wincest. Unbetaed. Originally posted to LJ on May 22, 2007.

He had dismissed that image too many times to count now and yet it kept creeping back. Dean could fight it through the day but when the light faded and he was left alone with his thoughts with Sam laying on the bed next to him, he hated himself for where his mind immediately went. When his fingers curled around the hard flesh to relieve tension, to form a black hole of thoughts, the only image that fought the eclipse was Sam's palm where his was. Guilt replaced the tension. Dean didn't like the trade-off but he had to try something, anything, to get rid of his dirty thoughts.

He really should have realized that his methods weren't designed to forget.

It had happened only once. After a hunt, nine scrawly stitches on his back and a shared bottle of Jack, Sam had offered a helping hand. Literally. He blamed mostly the combination of Jack and painkillers for not being able to turn him down and Sam for being such an insistent little s.o.b. like he always was. But it wasn't like they were kissing or in love or god forbid, actually fucking each other. Just his brother lending a hand, helping him in a way that brothers do. Only not.

Guilt was good, better than enjoying it. Guilt made him less perverted.

The stream and press of women helped to drown the ache, but after Sam left, _poof_ , the images came back. It was their only touch he could remember, only because of the guilt, and he clung to it desperately. Somewhere out of the hazy memories Sam's eyes started to stare at him when he came, dark and flushed. He blamed his dirty imagination for the slippery flashes and tightened his fist in punishment. Somewhere along the line Sam's voice started streaming through the fog of years gone by, whispering Dean to come for him.

He preferred that toneless whisper over the heated words that had preceded Sam's departure.

Reality stormed over the fragile strands of sight and sound, like it always did. Sam's palm stopped haunting him because Sam was hurting and _right there_ and Dean wasn't that big of an asshole. But then routines took over and slowly the hollow hate around his guilt filled again. He could imagine Sam's fingers curled around him more vividly; the stare more intense and the whisper needy instead of toneless. He did it only when he was sure that something was there to prevent Sam from seeing the guilt he carried around.

\---

Sam repeated the years-old words like a mantra every time, without guilt.


End file.
